


So Much For My Happy Ending

by ruff_ethereal



Category: Descendants (2015)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood and Violence, F/F, Gun Violence, Physical Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 00:15:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5143232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruff_ethereal/pseuds/ruff_ethereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal thought it was going to be a night filled with arguing over Evie's boyfriend Chad and  a stupid tradition they started when they were kids until she found the bruises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Much For My Happy Ending

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to the Chad lovers out there, the Anonymous who requested this specifically wanted a shitty, douchebaggy, abusive Chad.
> 
> Title is from the Avril Lavigne song "My Happy Ending."

“What the hell, Evie?” Mal screamed. “Does the past fifteen years we've been friends mean _nothing_ to you now?!”

Evie winced. “Mal, you have to understand, things are different for me now...”

“No shit they are!” She spat back. “Now you've got a boyfriend, and suddenly you don't have any time for anyone except him—not even your best friend!” The anger disappeared, replaced by hurt. “Stupid-Silly Saturdays are _our_ thing, E!”

Evie sighed wistfully. “I know, Mal, but Chad--”

The anger came roaring back. “Chad this, Chad that—I'm _sick_ of it! The first time you canceled, Chad had a breakdown and you needed to be there for him; the second time, he surprised you out of the blue with a dream vacation halfway across the country; and just last week, you got sick, you decided to weather it out at Chad's place not _our_ dorm room, and I had to stay here worrying to high hell about you, while your boyfriend kept telling me you were fine every time I called _your_ cell and I never even got to see your face until classes on Monday!

“And now—NOW”--Mal's voice suddenly dropped to a whisper--“… now you just want to cancel Stupid-Silly Saturdays, just like that…?”

“What the hell, Evie?” She asked, the hurt flooding back. “I get he's your prince charming, your perfect boyfriend, your 'One,' but it's like you don't even _exist_ anymore! I don't see you, I don't hear from you, and you barely even come to class anymore, let alone the ones we have together! The hell happened, E…?”

Tears welled up in Mal's eyes. She tried to blink them back, but they only kept on coming back even stronger.

Evie opened her mouth to speak. Then, she shut it. “I have to go...” She said as she turned around and made for the door.

Mal lunged and grabbed her arm. She let go as soon as Evie let out a horrific cry of pain.

Evie shrank back, protectively clutching her arm. Mal stared at her, mouth agape. She ran for the door, but Mal got there first and blocked the way.

“Mal, please...” Evie whispered, desperation in her eyes.

Mal scowled. “Show me your rams.”

Evie paled.

Mal scowled even harder. “E, I am not letting you leave until you _show me your arms!”_

Evie reluctantly pulled up the sleeves of her coat. Mal watched in horror as she revealed dozens of black and blue bruises up the entire lengths of both, thick layers of concealer all over them in a poor attempt to hide them—if anything, the swaths of brown only made them look more obvious.

Mal looked back at Evie, shock and panic in her eyes. Evie wouldn't meet her gaze.

“Mal, the door.” She mumbled.

Mal shook her head and scowled once more. “You are _not_ leaving this room. You are staying _right here_ , and you are calling the police, and you are telling them to arrest that blonde son of a bitch if he so much shows up at the block outside our building.”

“Mal--”

“Evie, for crying out loud, _look at yourself!_ Are you _really_ going to go back to him after what he's done to you?!”

Evie hung her head. “You don't understand...”

“I don't understand? _I_ don't understand?! Can't you see the signs, Evie?! Just dump him already and get him out of your life, preferably permanently!”

Evie looked up, fury in her eyes. She stormed right up to Mal, the bruises all over her arms forgotten for the moment. “All my life, he's all I've ever wanted, my own prince, someone who loves me, someone who makes me feel important, someone who needs me as much as I need him!” She screamed into her face. “You _know_ who I am, Mal, you _know_ what my love life's been like, what kind of guys would even be interested in me, let alone date me!

Her voice dropped to a trembling whisper, almost on the verge of tears. “Who else could love me but Chad…?”

There could have been so many things Mal could have screamed right back at Evie's face. Instead, she found herself lunging forward, grabbing Evie's face, and pressing her lips right up to hers.

She shrieked in surprise but didn't pull back, but didn't kiss back, either. Mal found her lips soft, warm, and even better than she imagined, and when she pulled away, she couldn't help but taste the sweet apple-honey chapstick tingling on her lips.

Then she saw the look of shock, confusion, and horror on Evie's face, her eyes wide open as she stared at her.

Mal turned and fled before either of them could get a word out.

Sometime when she had gotten out of their room and before her lungs were starting to burn for air, tears started stinging her eyes and pouring down her cheeks. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ … she thought to herself as she forced her legs to move as fast as they could, the wood floors of the dorms turning to hard concrete sidewalk.

As she ran, she wondered how she could have been so blind when she knew all the signs to look for, when they were all right there in front of her face.

When Evie just kept on gushing about how perfect Chad was, and she'd force herself to listen, smile, and nod, promising herself she wouldn't ruin this for Evie or lash out at her for _her_ failing to ask her out first before him.

When the troubles and the unexplained questions began, when Evie started disappearing from class, when her schedule always seemed to be mysteriously full and sudden emergencies were frequent, when she started spending less and less time in their dorm room and more and more time in Chad's apartment, far out on the borders of town where the fancy, the rich, and the exclusive loved to live.

When all the sweaters, long sleeved dresses, jackets and coats—anything that could cover her arms— started becoming a staple in her wardrobe. The way Evie couldn't look her in the eyes sometimes, how she always seemed to be in a rush, how she was never really completely into anything she did outside of Chad.

When she stopped gushing about Chad, when she stopped talking about how wonderful and “fairy tale perfect” their relationship was, when the only thing she could ever hear about them these days was that Chad was going through some “rocky times” and Evie was there to help him out like the faithful girlfriend she was.

How much longer before Chad took it to their twisted relationship to its bloody, tragic conclusion? How closely had Mal dodged getting a text from the morgue or the police, telling her that Evie had been found dead somewhere or that she'd suddenly gone mysteriously missing, and Chad was the prime suspect or without any answers to give? And most importantly, how long had Evie been living a very different sort of fairy tale—a princess trapped and terrorized by a horrible monster masquerading as a prince?

Her thoughts were interrupted when she ran smack into someone and fell onto her rear. Mal looked up with tear-stained eyes to apologize, before she saw who it was she had run into.

Her hatred of him had only grown with how effortlessly and how expertly he hid the fact that he was a monster. If she hadn't seen the bruises, known what he'd done, she'd have taken a look at him and thought the same thing she used to: that Chad was a handsome man from a rich, privileged family, who was charming, sociable, and fashionable, but didn't have much in the way of intelligence, responsibility, or maturity.

He was still putting on that face—those sparkling eyes, that huge grin, that calm, friendly and dreamy aura that made Mal want to punch him right in the mouth and knock out several of those perfect pearly white teeth. She would have, too, if she didn't need him to pull her back up to her feet.

“Woah, Mal, you look terrible, did something happen?” Chad asked, sounding concerned like a normal person, not a monster.

Mal sucked in several breaths—her lungs were burning, and the crying hadn't helped her any. “Break up with Evie right now, Chad.” She choked.

Chad blinked. “I'm sorry?” He said, feigning innocence.

The fury in Mal's eyes lit up once more, her green eyes growing ominously. “You heard me! Break up with Evie _right now!_ Call her and say it's over! Text her, I don't care, just don't ever get near her ever again, you _bastard!”_

Chad raised his arms in surrender and kept on the masquerade of surprise and confusion. “Slow down, Mal! Look, you've probably had a huge fight with Evie, so why don't I help you find somewhere nice and quiet and rest for a while--”

“I've seen the bruises, _you fuck._ I _know_ what you've done to her.”

The mask came off. Now there was only a cold, steely glint in his eyes, his lips a hard line. “I don't know what you're talking about, Mal; you know I'd never lay a hand on Evie.” He said coolly.

Something inside Mal _snapped._ She let out a scream of pure, primal rage, before she lunged at Chad. He didn't dodge her and met her full on, expecting that he could use his athlete's body and larger frame to overpower her.

Little did he know that Mal hadn't grown up on the ghettos of the “Isle of the Lost” without learning how to fight.

“Break up with her _now,_ or so help me I will _force_ you to!” Mal screeched as she clawed and tore at Chad, trying to punch and dig her knee into anything that was soft, vulnerable, and would be incredibly painful for him.

His own fighting instinct kicked in, and Chad wrenched her off of him, sending her staggering back a few steps. Undeterred, Mal charged him again.

It was then that Chad whipped out his gun with clean, practiced efficiency and pointed it straight at Mal's head, the hard plastic barrel pressed right up to her skin, his finger on the trigger, and of course with only one hand for extra style points. She briefly wondered how many times he'd pulled off that maneuver on Evie to be able to do it so naturally.

The bystanders that hadn't ignored the situation gasped. Many ran and screamed for help. Some called 911 while others helpfully caught the whole thing on video if ever they needed evidence to convict Chad for attempted murder or prove that Mal's death was far from accidental, or the circumstances made it a lesser degree.

The ferocity left Chad's eyes; now, there was only a smug, pleased look, that of a man who _knew_ he was going to get his way.

For all the terrible things she'd done to Mal, she had to thank her mother for a few things, like enrolling her in Krav Maga classes when she was seven. Faster than Chad could react—and made all the better by the fact that he never once entertained the idea that Mal would fight back now—she clamped down on his wrist, pushed the gun up, wrenched it out of his hands then backpedaled a good distance between them.

She raised the gun to Chad, both hands on the weapon, barrel towards his center of mass, finger on the trigger guard—firearms safety and handling classes when she was ten.

Chad blinked. Then, more confused and shocked than terrified, he slowly raised his arms up into the air.

“I'm not going to kill you, Chad,” Mal said as she kept the gun trained on him. “Because frankly, I'd rather you go to prison for a good, _long_ time, and pay for all the shit you've done to Evie.”

She unloaded the gun, clip falling into her hands, before she threw them both away in opposite directions.

In hindsight, she _really_ should have waited for the police to arrive before she took the gun off of him.

The rest of the fight was a blur of screaming, violence, and blood. Mal ducked his first lunge, but with his much larger body, he quickly got a hold of her, they hit the ground, and then it was either meeting the hard concrete or the others' punches.

Some time soon—Mal never knew—the police arrived to pull Chad off of her and haul him kicking and screaming to the car. The paramedics came in soon after to scrape the bloody mess that was her off the sidewalk and onto a stretcher. Things soon faded into blissful unconsciousness when they put her on morphine.

She woke up on a hospital bed, everything still fuzzy, half from the morphine, half from the fact that she couldn't see very well out of either of her eyes.

Not so much that she couldn't see Evie standing by her bedside, though.

Mal tried to smile, but either she was too numb or her mouth had gotten badly beaten in the fight. “Hey E.” She said, her voice weak and garbled.

Evie stared at her. Intense rage came over her face for a brief moment, before she started trembling. Tears started pouring down her cheeks; Mal wanted to reach over and wiped them away, but she couldn't lift her arms.

“I've broken up with Chad— _forever._ ” Evie said between her sobs. “I see him for the monster he is now. You were right. You were _always_ right. If I didn't believe him and all his lies, if I didn't put up with all of his shit, if I didn't forgive him for all the horrible things he's done, _you wouldn't be--!”_

“E.”

Evie stopped and stared at Mal with red, puffy eyes, her whole body trembling and shaking hard. Mal tried to smile again, but it seemed the only thing she could do was lay there in her bed while Evie cried every single tear she had inside of her.

Eventually, she leaned down and brought herself close to Mal, careful not to touch many parts of her body. _“I'm sorry,_ Mal, I'm _so_ sorry; can you ever forgive me for being so _stupid_ …?”

Mal closed her eyes. “Evie. You're not stupid. You're the smartest girl I've ever met—you just fell for a huge douche who's really, really, _really_ good at manipulating people.”

It hurt like hell to say that many words in one sentence, but it was worth it to see Evie pull back, eyes puffy and red from all her crying, cheeks wet, and a smile slowly spreading out on her face. “Chad wasn't my Prince Charming—but you know what? I think I like my new fairytale romance even better: a courageous princess who came to save me from me a horrible monster.”

She leaned down and kissed Mal on her bruised, bloody lips.

Even if she couldn't exactly feel Evie's warm, soft lips of hers at the moment, Mal thought it was a _damn_ good start to their story.

**Author's Note:**

> TED Talk by Leslie Morgan Steiner, "Why Domestic Violence Victims Don't Leave": http://www.ted.com/talks/leslie_morgan_steiner_why_domestic_violence_victims_don_t_leave


End file.
